


Some Kind of Friend

by totilott



Series: A Groovy Kind of Love [7]
Category: DCU (Comics), Justice League International (Comics)
Genre: 1980s, And then Not So Secret Crush, Angst, Arguing, Bisexual Character, Love Confessions, M/M, Missions, Poor poor Booster, Secret Crush, Sexual Tension, Songfic, Stakeout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 02:57:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19053838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totilott/pseuds/totilott
Summary: As Ted recuperates after his coma, Booster joins him on a stakeout mission. Tensions rise while Booster tries to gather the courage to tell Ted how he feels.





	Some Kind of Friend

Like everything else, it’s a gradual process.

The first day starts rambunctiously. They arrive at the vantage point, third floor of a condemned building just outside Houston, in high spirits. It’s like a sleepover, a party. They’ve brought snacks, and music, and have an impromptu wrestling match as Batman tries to tell the two of them how to log everything they see, every person who enters or exits the warehouse across the street. They take turns sitting by the window observing, but talk and laugh into the early hours until they draw lots on who gets to sleep first on the threadbare mattress in the corner.

The second day is more subdued, but still there reigns a sense of being let loose. Groggy from lack of sleep they eventually agree on shifts, six hours on, six hours off. Ted’s injured leg already aches from lack of movement, and hesitantly, awkwardly, he allows Booster to assist him for his physical therapy. At this point they’ve never spent this much time together without interruptions, without breaks.

Which brings us to the third day. They’re tired, they’re bored. And for the few hours where they’re both awake the pauses between muttered conversation grow longer.

Booster shifts in his seat by the window, folding one leg under him, and chews idly on a fingernail as he glances over to Ted, asleep on the mattress on the floor, snoring loudly. He makes a face and then smiles to himself.

_Here we are again. You asleep, me watching you. It keeps happening._

The moment Ted opened his eyes in that hospital bed and muttered Booster’s name, Booster had cried with relief. That he remembered. That he’d said his name just like he always did. Ted had been conked out another full day after that, muttering like a man half asleep, but that had been when Booster knew he’d been alright. That they’d gotten through this, too.

He clears his throat.

The sun is sinking low, warming Booster’s arm in the windowsill. He sighs, twisting around to grab the walkman. He removes Beetle’s cassette of Huey Lewis, placing it in their small collective pile, and roots around till he finds another. Pops it in, closes the lid (enjoying the gentle give, the satisfying click), puts on the headphones, and presses play.

Beetle’s snoring is immediately drowned out by Dion and the Belmonts’ wailing song. _“Diane! Down deep inside I cry, Diane! Without your love I’ll die, Diane!”_

He pinches the bridge of his nose and resumes looking out the window, to the warehouse below. That red metal door that burns into his retinas until he can’t close his eyes without seeing the fluttering negative image of it.

Three days, and Booster so keenly aware every minute that passes he could have already told Ted. Like he promised. Promised himself, promised Ted. Get it out in the open, stop lying to his best friend.

His best friend that he loves. That he's _in love_ with.

He chides himself for not doing it on their first day here, when they were both in high spirits, when they were both happy and rested and excited about doing this together. He doesn't know what to expect, but surely it must be better than carrying the secret around with him every waking moment, burdened by it. They can talk about everything together, they can talk about this too. Now that they're all alone together.

They both know this isn’t the kind of work that would usually befall League members, but with Ted’s condition...

There’s a muffled noise that doesn’t seem to fit with the music. Booster stretches in his chair, still staring at that red door.

“Hey.”

He takes off his headphones and flashes Beetle a quick smile.

“You didn’t wake me up.” Ted sits up in bed, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

“I guess I got lost in the beautiful view." Booster gestures to the concrete buildings, the cracked asphalt.

"Oh, you'll miss it when we're done."

"I'll commission a painting."

Ted tries rising from the mattress on the floor. “We'll hang it over the fireplace. _Shit!_ ” He staggers and falls forward, catching hold on the back of the chair moments before he hits the floor.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Booster’s out of his seat and halfway across the worn wooden floor before he’s had a chance to think.

Ted waves him off with a grimace. “I’m fine. I’m _fine!_ ” He rubs the outside of his thigh vigorously. “It just... doesn’t work right.”

Booster hesitantly finds his seat by the window again, glances outside to confirm it’s still deserted out there. “It just takes time.”

“I _know_ , Booster.” Ted snaps, not taking his eyes off his leg. “Can you just _stop_ telling me --” He pauses abruptly and looks up. “Um, sorry. I’m sorry, Booster.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m not mad at you, I’m just frustrated with -- with this.” He rubs his leg, a little gentler.

“It’s okay.”

It’s been slow going, like everything else. The doctors used words like “atrophy” and “residual”. Once he was lucid Beetle had wanted to jump straight out of that hospital bed and back into the fray, the fights. But six weeks in a coma had left its mark. Muscles lying passive had become weaker, synapses busy repairing themselves had started doing a shoddier job signaling those muscles. And with Ted’s leg already injured when he... When he wasn’t himself. Well, it was taking a little longer to get that leg online again.

Beetle gets on his feet again, holding the chair for support, and finds a wide-legged stance on the floor. He slowly bends at the waist, down, down, until his palms touch the floor. He lifts one leg behind him, and then abruptly stands up again, looking at Booster. “Man, bud, you’ve been keeping watch all this time, you gotta be dog tired. Let’s switch.”

Booster attempts a bright smile but his eyes are burning after close to ten hours on lookout. “It’s fine, I was just starting to get into it. Doing some pro class staring.”

Ted chuckles, and even if it might not be very genuine it still makes Booster's heart feel lighter.

“No, I just plain forgot,” Booster shrugs, looking back at the warehouse. It’s a lie, of course. They both know Ted’s been struggling to keep awake and alert. He tires more quickly now. It’s only natural, his body and brain expending so much energy repairing themselves. What’s a few more hours to Booster if it helps Ted's recovery?

“Come on,” Beetle takes a few steps towards him. He doesn’t limp now he’s got circulation back in his leg. “Switch.”

“No, it’s fine,” Booster waves him off. “I can take ten more minutes. Finish doing your thing.”

Booster knows better than to refer to it as physical therapy. He knows Beetle can’t stand that term. Says it makes him feel like a pensioner with a broken hip. Booster keeps an eye on the warehouse while out of the corner of his eye he can see Ted quietly go through his phys-- his stretching and strengthening routine. How he lifts one leg behind him to grab the ankle. Leans forward with a dancer's grace, gently pulling, stretching. 

Ted has no idea how graceful he is, even with his injury.

Booster bites his lip and reaches out for something to snack on. He finds half a bag of skittles, and shoves a handful into his mouth. They don’t taste as sweet as they did two days ago.

_Tell him. This is when you tell him._

Behind him, Ted clears his throat. “Any action out there?”

Booster shakes his head. “Not for a while. Green Jacket came out at, er...” He checks the notepad, covered in doodles and scribbles. “Four thirty. That’s it.”

“You think you’re, uh,” Ted coughs. “Free to...”

“Sure.” Booster turns on the small camcorder mounted by the window. They only use it a few times per day, since using it means one of them has to keep regular lookout while the other skims through the tape, but it’s handy for little breaks. And Booster’s happy to take one of those right now.

Ted falls back on the mattress, propped up on his elbows. “So, um, if you just --” He coughs, quickly looking to Booster and then away.

“So we're doing the one with the, er -- yeah.” Booster mutters, and gently, gently, grabs hold of Ted’s ankle, his injured leg, pulse thrumming in his temple.

At the embassy Ted has a corner of the gym to himself now, with equipment and bands and all sorts of physiotherapy tools, the best Max Lord could get hold of. He never needs to ask for help. Without the equipment though, he needs assistance. And it's clear how much he hates that.

“You okay?” Booster asks, taking care to hold Ted’s leg where it’s safely covered by his sweatpants.

Ted lowers himself until he’s flat on the back, leg outstretched against Booster’s hand. “Yeah, go ahead,” he mutters.

Booster pushes gradually against Ted’s leg, putting it at a 45 degree to Ted’s body. “You good?” he asks, staring at a point on the wall, trying not to feel the heat of Ted’s skin through the fabric.

“You gotta, well,” Ted clears his throat, staring at the ceiling. “Lean more into it.”

“You got it, bud.” Booster shifts forward, but his feet crash against the edge of the bed. “Hang on, I’m just gonna, um...” He kneels on the mattress, Ted’s other leg between his, and splays his own knees awkwardly so there's no contact. He pushes Ted’s raised leg forward.

“I need, um,” Ted’s breath whistles through his teeth. “There, there should be more.... support for me to push against.”

Booster feels like he’s going to explode, like his head will just shoot off like a cork. This isn’t fair, not to him, not to Ted. _Don’t you dare enjoy this,_ he tells himself darkly. His friend just needs some assistance and Booster isn't going to dirty it up with the way he feels about Ted.

Because Ted hates having him do this.

Booster scoots forward on the bed, gently guiding Ted’s ankle to lean against his shoulder. He sees the steady rise and fall of Ted’s chest as he breathes, feels the heat of his skin through his clothes, and Booster has to focus on steadying his hands so Ted won’t see them shake.

He feels dirty.

“This better?” he asks, a little too brightly, a little too forcibly unaffected.

“Sure,” Ted mutters, still staring at the ceiling. “Try pushing now.”

Booster leans forward, as gently as he can possibly go, pressing his friend's leg towards his torso. “You okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine, Booster, just keep going.”

Pushing further until he feels the tiniest little tremor in Ted’s body. He stops. “Sorry,” he says. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, it’s _fine,_ Booster,” Ted replies quickly, a touch of frustration in his tone. “Go ahead.”

Booster tries to move slower than anything, slower than the hour hand on a clock, moving an atom-width at a time, but Ted wants him to keep pressing, so he does. He'll do whatever Ted needs him to do to get well, and while he does it he's not going to think about how close their faces are, how even without touching he can feel the heat of Ted's other leg between his. Because a friend wouldn't do that.

He pushes until he hears a small choked groan from Ted, and Booster’s eyes snaps to his face. He sees the fine sheen of perspiration on Ted’s upper lip, sees Ted’s brow wrinkled in effort. He pauses. “This really hurts, huh?”

When Ted opens his mouth a quiet gasp escapes him. “It’s fine." His voice is choked with effort. “Don’t stop, keep going.”

Booster moves another atom’s width, and Ted groans in pain, louder this time, and Booster knows he can’t stand to be the cause of that pain a moment longer. He sits up.

“Booster, _God_." There's real anger in Ted voice as his leg falls down on the bed and he clambers up on elbows. “I told you to keep going.”

“You were in _pain_ ,” Booster protests, sitting back on his heels in the bed.

“No, I wasn’t,” Ted goes, and when Booster snorts in reply, he adds, softer: “Just a little bit. It’s meant to hurt. It’s normal.”

Booster sighs, still feeling his head tired and heavy from his shift. He tries to smile. “Look, you’re already a hundred times more flexible than me as it is.”

“I could get deeper than this, I could do more, before--”

“I’m not going to hurt you just because you think you should be doing better than you are!” It comes out louder than Booster meant it to. He looks up at Ted to gauge his reaction, but Ted isn’t looking at him, he’s staring at something behind Booster and scrambling to sit up.

Booster turns around. “Batman,” he mutters,

In the dimming light the dark silhouette seems impossibly tall, vague and shifting, impossible to get a hold on. Booster finds himself thinking, not for the first time, that’s he’s glad they’re on the same side.

Booster rises from the bed, hurrying over to the seat by the window, the vantage point. “Bats,” he flashes him a smile as he takes stock of what’s going on outside, and notices the door to the warehouse is ajar. “We were just --”

“I thought I said only to use the tape recorder in emergencies,” Batman lifts a gloved hand and presses the stop button on the camcorder.

“Come on, Bats,” Booster objects amicably. “Beetle has to do his physical ther-- his routine. I was just helping.” He feels a heat rising from his chest, up his neck. _Just helping. Just a friend._

Batman doesn’t say anything. He picks up the notepad lying on the windowsill, their log, and flips through it. Something like a sigh escapes him when he sees the pages filled with doodles and jokes, going all the way back to the first day. Just something they've been doing to brighten up each other's shifts.

“It’s all there.” Beetle rises from the mattress, pulling himself up by the chair next to it. “So maybe if we knew why the hell we’re here --”

Batman silently turns to face Ted, and Booster flinches in sympathy. “You’re here to observe.”

“To observe _what?_ ” Ted stands up straight, eyes fixed on Batman.

Batman stays still, not answering.

“Seems to me,” Ted doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. “This is very atypical League business. And even if it was,” he glances at Booster and then back to Batman. “Booster and me wouldn’t be your first pick to do it.”

“Come on, Beetle.” Booster nervously pulls his fingers through his hair.

The room is quiet for a moment. Then Batman speaks. “I expect you to follow my instructions.”

“Oh, we are,” Ted sneers. “To the letter. How much longer do you want us to do that?”

Batman looks down on the notepad in his hand, flips through it. “Not much longer.” He looks to Booster, and then back to Ted. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Pack your things.”

“The stakeout’s over?” Booster asks, a little too brightly, wanting to defuse the tension, but feels a pinching sensation in his stomach.

There’s a pause, and then Batman heads for the door. “In a few hours. Keep watch until then.”

He’s halfway down the stairs when Ted hurries over to the open door and shouts. “No thank you, then?!” He waits a moment, fingers drumming on the door frame, and then slams the door shut.

“Beetle!” Booster hisses. “What the hell’s going on with you?”

“It hasn’t even occurred to you?” Ted’s scrunches his nose.

“What?”

"Come on."

Booster feels he must be very stupid. So stupid he doesn't even know it. " _What?_ "

“That there might not be a stakeout.”

Booster looks at him, utterly confused.

“That maybe they’ve stuck us here," Ted gestures to the room. "Told us to stare at a random building, logging the random comings and goings of completely law-abiding nobodies.” Ted walks over to the window and stands next to Booster, looking down at the warehouse.

“Why on earth would they do that?”

“To, you know, to _occupy_ me!” Ted’s voice is dripping with disgust. “To keep me busy, out of everyone's hair.”

“Beetle...” Booster would like to grab hold of his hand, pat his arm, something. But he won’t. “You don’t believe that.”

“The hell I don’t.” Ted’s still staring down at the building, breathing deeply through his nose. “Gotta give old useless Beetle something to do, right? Gotta put him somewhere we don’t have to worry about him.”

Booster stares at him, frowning. Is this what Beetle's been pondering those hours alone on watch?

“And you, Booster, you should be the maddest of all.” Ted’s gaze doesn’t flinch from the warehouse, though his eyes are misting up. “They sidelined a perfectly good League member to fucking babysit me.”

“Ted!” Booster feels pity turn to frustration, he’s too tired for weird conspiracies. Too tired for kind words and comfort.

“Maybe _you’re_ in on it, too, I don’t know.”

“Or maybe the world doesn’t revolve around you and your _fucking leg!_ ” There’s a hoarseness to Booster’s voice as he shouts it, makes it sound raw and brutal. He’s surprised by it too.

Ted looks at him, wide eyed, as Booster rises from his seat.

“I can’t deal with your, your goddamned _pity party_ right now, Ted.” Booster tries to pull on his jacket, but he can’t seem to find the right arm hole. “I’m on hour eleven of being on lookout, I’m hungry, I’m tired --”

“It’s you who didn’t wake me,” Ted snaps at him.

“I _don’t care_ ,” Booster snaps back, some of his anger coming from the fact that Ted’s right about that detail, anyway. This is what comes from trying to be kind. He gives up trying to pull on his jacket and instead grabs the wallet in the pocket and throws the jacket on the floor. “I’m going out and getting us dinner and you sit in that chair and log every fucking thing while I’m gone.”

He slams the door behind him as he leaves, a flurry of old memories of arguing with his mom when he was a teenager bobbing to the surface as he does so.

Out on the street he stops, lets out a sharp groan of frustration, and leans his back against a lamppost. Just a little longer. They're almost done here. He breathes deeply, trying to catch his breath. Then he realizes Ted probably can see him from here and he hurries down the street, forcing himself not to look up.

Ted’s lost it. It’s not like this is the first time they’ve been given an assignment together. They’re a fucking team, Blue and Gold, of course they get two-man gigs together. And while Ted’s not as crippled as he thinks, he’s not quite fighting fit yet, of course he’ll get assignments that don’t involve punching supervillains while he’s still recovering.

Booster stops again, trying to get his bearings. Right, food. There’s a Big Belly Burger another block from here, that’s where he’ll go. Even if he’s sick of fast food. Sick of grease and condiments and sugar. He didn’t think that was possible.

Three days of handling Ted with kid gloves, and he has the nerve to cry conspiracy and accuse Booster of being part of it. What a jerk. What an _asshole_. At least they’re almost done.

He stops, something clenching in his chest. Almost done. And he hasn’t told him.

Not that he wants to, now, but... What good has three days been, trying to build up the nerve, worrying sick about it, if he just drops it? Another few hours, and he might never have a chance like this again. Just the two of them, alone, completely alone, and no matter the fallout he can be sure no one else will know, at least for the time being.

_Ted, I’m in love with you. You fucking asshole._

He tells himself it’ll be easier now. He’ll use the anger, the frustration, to get through what comes after. Because he does worry about what comes after. It’ll hurt less, whatever Ted's reaction might be. They’re already fighting, whatever Ted might call him he can tell himself it’s because of that. Not because he really thinks Booster is a weirdo deviant.

He’ll tell him when he gets back. Even if they're still fighting, he won't back out. No matter what.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Booster gently opens the door to their hideout and slips inside. Beetle's still in the chair by the window, so still Booster wonders for a moment if he’s fallen asleep. Booster places his two bags of takeout on the floor next to the mattress and sits down. His heart seems about to pound through his chest wall.

“Beetle?”

Ted stirs on his seat. He sits up taller, but doesn’t glance back at Booster.

“Beetle, I..." Booster clears his throat. "I got something I need to tell you.”

This is when Ted turns and looks at him. He doesn't seem angry anymore, in fact there’s something almost despairing in his eyes. “Yeah, I know, Booster.”

Booster’s heart skips a beat, for a hundredth of a second he imagines Ted already knowing, how easy that would make everything. But of course he can't. “Trust me, you _really_ don’t.”

Ted looks at him, puzzled, and motions to the bags of fast food on the floor. Booster gives one of them a push so it slides over the floor to Ted, the gentle _shhh_ of plastic against hardwood the only sound in the room.

The words are screaming to get out, but he doesn’t quite know how to do it.

“Look, I’m...” Ted frowns as he roots through the bag, pulling out a wrapped burger. “I’ve, uh, been a total ass, Booster.”

Booster doesn’t speak. He stares fixedly at the bag between Ted’s feet.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Booster mutters, and the moment he says it he’s furious at himself. Because whatever he feels for Ted, that can't mean he'll always be okay with everything.

“No,” Ted replies quietly. “I’m sorry for what I said, that was _really_ stupid. I know you're not, uh...”

Booster nods.

“And I -- I’ve been a nightmare to be around for a while now, I know." He swallows, not looking up. "A, a real moody asshole. And we don’t need any more of those, we’ve already got Bats.”

Booster chuckles in spite of himself.

“I guess I’ve been like that ever since I got back and I’m sorry.”

“Look, I--” Booster swallows, his throat dry. “I know your leg bothers you, I know you --”

“I don’t even think it’s the leg,” Ted interrupts, quietly. “Or the, the coma. It’s the... the thing before that.”

Booster presses his fingernails into his palms. They haven't really spoken about that. When the Bialyan programming kicked in. When they told Ted the code word that made him start hurting people. “That wasn’t you,” Booster says, gently. “Everybody knows that wasn’t you.”

“Of course it was me.”

“You were hypnotized.”

“It was still me, I -- I hurt Oberon.” Ted’s voice trembles, still he stares at the burger in his hands. “I stabbed Max.”

“You were... switched off,” Booster looks at him. Wants to hug him. But he won’t. “You weren’t even awake, you can’t even remember --”

“I remember.” Ted carefully places the burger on the windowsill and pulls his fingers through his hair. “I told everyone I don’t, but I -- I remember.”

Booster is quiet, at a loss for words.

“It was like, like I was looking at myself from the outside. I saw myself do those things, I saw the, the blood and...”

Booster gets the overwhelming feeling of being privy to cold, sharp pain.

“I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t interfere, and all that time I kept thinking that, that...” Ted folds his hands, hard, looking down at them. “I kept hoping you wouldn’t come. That I wouldn’t hurt you too.”

There's a soft noise, a small crackle of the plastic bag at Ted's feet, and Booster realizes a teardrop is dangling from Ted's chin. He wants to hold him so hard, but he can’t. He can’t because he still needs to tell him. With everything else going on, he has to tell him today. And he gets a flash of guilt that he’s so preoccupied with that, that he isn’t present when he needs to be. “It’s okay,” he mutters. “You didn’t.”

“I would have.”

“I wouldn’t have let you.”

“No?” Ted looks at him, frowning. There's a streak of tears on his face. “Bats had to knock me out cold to stop me. Would you have done that?”

Booster swallows, his mouth dry. “Nobody’s blaming you,” he says eventually, gently. “Everybody knows it wasn’t your fault.”

“Maybe so.” Ted slumps back in his chair. “But what -- what if it happens again?”

“It won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because Waller and Bats and Fate fixed it,” Booster says, feeling his argument sounds more like a child’s. “They... deprogrammed you.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because...” _Because now we know what to look for. Because I know you. Because I wouldn’t trust you like this if I wasn’t sure._

_Because I love you._

“Because Bats’ sure.” Booster nods resolutely. It sounds childish, but it’s still true. “He told us what had happened, and he told us it was over. That we could trust you.”

Ted frowns in confusion. “He did?”

“Yeah.”

“Man...” Ted wipes his cheek, glancing out the window. “I’ve been a real jerk to him too, then.”

“I’m sure he’s used to it.”

Ted looks at Booster, about to say something.

Booster cuts him off. “I mean from everybody, not you. He’s pretty abrasive.”

Ted sits back in his chair, eyes on the street. He sighs. “I’m just... I’ve been trapped in my head these last days, thinking too much.” He massages the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been so scared I would snap again, and -- and you’d be alone with me.”

“That's what you've been doing?” Booster frowns, looking at him. “I’ve been sitting in that chair trying to remember the lyrics to ‘Funky Cold Medina’.”

Ted bursts out laughing, and it’s a sound Booster hasn’t heard in months. He giggles too, a little more at ease, but any other time before this he'd come up to Beetle and hug him right now. Still that voice in his head hounds him: _Tell him, tell him, tell him._

“Good,” Ted says in between giggles. “That’s out in the open, then. I'll remember 'Funky Cold Medina' next time.” He coughs and grabs the burger he placed on the window sill. “I’m starving. You’re not gonna eat?”

Booster looks down at the bag resting on the floor. “I guess I’m not hungry. I’ll save it.”

They sit in silence, Booster watching Ted eat, realizing how much better Ted seems to be feeling now he told Booster the truth. It's that simple, isn't it? Secrets just build resentment and distrust.

Booster's hands are cold. There’s no segue to this. There’s no easy way to bring it up. It feels like knowing you have to take a running plunge into ice cold water. The hard thing is jumping, knowing what comes next.

“Beetle,” he says, quietly, as Ted scrunches up the paper his burger was wrapped in.

“Yeah bud? Wait,” he leans forward in seat, staring out the window. “Our red-head is back, he’s meeting with Green Jacket.” Ted looks at his watch and starts writing on the notepad.

“Beetle,” Booster begins again. “You -- you remember when I made you tell me your name?”

“Hm? Yeah.” Ted stares intently at the people below. "I wish I could read lips."

“And you made me promise, as a friend, that I wouldn’t tell anyone or tease you for it?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ted flashes him a puzzled smile, then returns to looking out the window. “What about it?”

“I need you to promise the same.” Booster feels like he’s seconds away from plunging into the black icy cold water. He’s begun his running jump.

“What, about your name?”

“No, something else.” It’s happening, it’s a runaway locomotive, he’s gonna say it. He's gonna say it and everything's gonna be better.

“What something else?”

“Just promise.”

“Okay,” Ted chuckles. “I promise. What do you want to tell me?”

“Beetle, I like guys.”

Ted doesn’t move his gaze from the street below, just smiles, puzzled. “What, in general?”

“No, I -- I _like_ guys, I’m attracted to men.” It sounds so clinical, so unrelated to real life. He’s suspended above the icy cold water and there’s no returning back to the pier. “And women,” he adds quickly, trying to soften the blow. “I’m attracted to men and women, and --” He exhales, breath coming out shuddering, remembering a horrible hand grabbing his ankle as he tried to escape out a cellar window. “And I think I -- no I do, I like _you_.” The icy cold shock, making it impossible to breathe. His hands are shaking. “That way.”

Ted’s still looking out the window. His smile is gone. He’s not frowning or looking shocked, his face is just... blank.

Booster waits for the feeling of relief, waits for everything to be better. But it isn't.

“I’m, ah --” Ted’s voice cracks a tiny bit and he clears his throat, not moving his gaze. “Booster, I’m not gay.”

“I know,” he replies quickly, pulling his fingers through his hair. “You don’t have to tell me, I know, I was just --” His hands, his feet, his body feels so cold. Like his heart will just stop, frozen to the core. “Just forget it. We won’t talk about it. Please -- please don’t tell anyone.”

“Mm-hm.” Ted’s body is so still, so tense. Not looking at Booster, not looking at anything but the people down on the sidewalk.

“Okay, good, I’m -- I'm kinda exhausted though.” And it’s true, it’s true, it’s like every cell in his body has been wrung out. “I’m gonna catch some Zs, you keep lookout and --” He shuffles back on the mattress. “Please don’t tell.”

“Of course,” Ted mutters, not turning to look at him.

Booster flops over on his side, facing the wall. It takes him a few minutes to remember to unclench his jaw.

_Stupid. That was so stupid, Booster. What did you think would happen?_

Even if Ted keeps it secret, all he’s accomplished has been to ruin their friendship. Ted must be so disgusted. He must hate him.

Now every hug, every touch, must seem so dirty in hindsight. Not to mention the physical therapy. God. With a few words Booster has ruined not only their future friendship, but their past.

Telling someone like this, that's a thing he could do in his own era. That was a neutral action then. In this time, it's -- it's illegal in so many places, and even here, it's dirty and perverted and...

What little purity, what little innocence their friendship had, that’s gone now. Booster has made it all, all tainted.

He can feel tears pressing, but he refuses to wipe his eyes, doesn’t want to let on he’s not in deep sleep. He’ll stay like this till Bats comes back and collects them, they’ll leave in silence and --

And then what?

What happens from here? Once they're back at the Embassy they’ll separate, each go to their rooms. Sleep. Rest. Nobody will think twice. They’ve spent three days locked up in a tiny room together, everyone will understand they need some space. They'll need a lifetime's worth of space after this.

_Stupid, Booster._

He can try telling Ted it was a joke. Some kind of prank. Or a fit of insanity brought on by lack of sleep and too much candy. A sugar rush.

But no, it hadn't come out like a casual remark. The confession had had all the grace of a mudslide. He'd never say a joke in that way.

_How selfish are you? What kind of principles made you set on ruining your best friendship?_

Behind him he hears movement. Something plastic taps against the floor for a moment, and then there’s quiet. Only when he hears the soft mechanic click of a button being pressed does he realize it’s the walkman. The walkman that was just where he left it earlier.

Ted’s listening to Booster’s tape.

He waits for Ted to realize, knows he doesn't go for Booster's apparently "retro" tastes. He waits for a few more button presses, the sound of release as the walkman opens and Ted removes the cassette, but there’s silence. The tape’s still playing.

What's on that tape? There’s ‘Diane’. And 'Baby it's you'. ‘He’s sure the boy I love’, ‘Be my baby'...

All love songs. Booster makes a face. What a cliché, right? Poor old lovesick Booster.

He wants to get up and snatch that walkman away. He doesn’t want Ted to listen to those songs, thinking about... What Booster told him. How Booster feels. Ted's probably listening to 'Be my baby' right about now. Listening to, “ _The night we met I knew I needed you so, and if I had the chance I’d never let you go, so won’t you say you love me..._ ”

He curls up tighter, pressing his eyes shut.

_Stupid Booster._

**Author's Note:**

> Long ago when I started this series I had the idea that Ted POV chapters would have titles from eighties' songs and Booster's would have titles from fifties' and early sixties' songs, to reflect their tastes in music and conceptually setting them apart in time. But I'll say this as a person who listens to more early sixties' girl groups than eighties' pop: The song titles of the former are pretty similar. It's all very LOVE LOVE BABY BABY, so I had to shelve that idea.
> 
>  **[Songs:](https://open.spotify.com/user/tilly_stratford/playlist/4SqomvmhyncWPEAobYUZ88?si=DNXWufsLSs29KqRywW2U9A)**  
>  Little Diane - Dion and the Belmonts  
> Funky Cold Medina - Tone Loc  
> Baby It's You - The Shirelles  
> He's Sure the Boy I Love - The Crystals  
> Be My Baby - The Ronettes  
> Some Kind of Friend - Barry Manilow


End file.
